


Among the Stars

by angelxtal



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DCU, DCU (Comics), Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Deep Space Nine - Freeform, Falling In Love, Food, Food Kink, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Getting Together, Infinity War (Marvel Comics), Large Cock, M/M, Metahumans, Mpreg, Muscle Growth, Slavery, Technobabble, The Doctor's personal name is John Smith, War, speedster, worldbuliding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelxtal/pseuds/angelxtal
Summary: The Universe is in chaos after the infinity war, in which the Time Lords tried to prevent the creation of the Daleks, their greatest enemy. In an attempt to win the war, the Doctor changed time and ended up erasing whole species from existence.Now, he is exiled onto Deep Space Nine, a supposed "neutral space" for negotiations. After losing his family in the war and being rendered useless in helping the species who were hurt, how will he react to getting a certain gift, Barry Allen, from another Ambassador?Barry is Volian, a species which was enslaved by the Aschen Confederation and then the Goa'uld. He was sent to the Doctor as a proposal of peace, but he'll have a bigger effect on the Doctor than the Goa'uld would think.-----This story as a whole is a highly complex crossover, but each chapter should be easy to read and understand. Tags will be added as the fic goes along :)Each chapter, as per the current plan, will be 5000 words long. This was discontinued, I think, at chapter 4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of this story. It's just setting the scene. If you're not familiar with some of the things / fandoms / ideas mentioned in the story, that's okay. It's supposed to be versatile in the way that it should make sense to beginners but should still be able to use them complexly as the story goes on.
> 
> NOTE: THE DOCTOR ALSO GOES BY "JOHN SMITH".
> 
> You can find me on my [non-kpop tumblr](http://starkmarks.tumblr.com/).

All day John had dealt with nothing but incessant Board-members and screaming politicians, just as frustrated as he was that they were stuck in this hellish place. Deep Space Nine was no paradise, though it claimed to be a space of neutrality and tranquility among the squabbles of various planets and peoples. There were meetings, arguments, and nothing was accomplished here. The whole purpose of him being here, supposedly to lead negotiations and diplomacy, was nothing but a thinly-veiled excuse to send him off where he couldn’t make trouble for the Time Lords. That was what he got for attempting to keep the world in once piece: exile. The only thing that he had to look forward to today was his soft bed in the corner of the TARDIS’s fourth set of chambers. But, of course, he couldn’t have anything go his way, could he?

Running a hand over his rugged beard, he let out a sigh and lifted the paper closer to his face. It was hung around the door-handle of his apartment, in a thick envelope made of luxurious parchment, too nice to be a note from the maid. This must have been another personal message from an Ambassador who’d been instructed to use unsavory methods to gain “peace”. It was the last thing that he needed. Events like this, messages like this, did nothing but take up his time. He would much rather be asleep than dealing with this.

_A gift in hopes of future mutual prosperity between our peoples. We wish you safety and pleasure in your pursuits. – The Goa’uld._

What sort of Empire with any self-respect would leave a note at someone’s apartment when John had been near his office all day? It was…suspicious to say the least. Begrudgingly, looking at the blue wood or the door ahead of him, he opened the door and stepped into his apartment. Whatever the Goa’uld had brought to him as a gift was supposedly in here. The Housekeeper must have given the Ambassador a key…

At first glance, everything appeared to be normal. There was a large kitchen, open and clean as always, and the living room was soft and worn-in as it could be. Nothing was out of place or wrong, but there was a small sound, like running water, coming from the left where his chambers were. None of his companions were supposed to be here at this point. Was this gift…alive?

He took tentative steps towards the sounds, back rigid as he strained his ears in an attempt to place the strange sound under a category of _threat_ or _real gift_. Based on his knowledge about what the Goa’uld spent their time doing, he wouldn’t suspect it to be anything of pleasantries. But, he was surprised. As he slowly rounded the corner to his bedroom, there was again nothing waiting for him. In the bathroom, tiled with bright white slates and a large, porcelain tub in the center of the room, he found his gift. Surprisingly, it was a boy. A pretty Volian boy.

Apparently, the Gao’uld had heard about John’s affinity for younger men. Clad in a skimpy, thin white robe with gold embellishments on the side, the boy was on his knees on the bathroom floor, head directed towards the ground. Knees spread apart and body clearly shaven, he was blinking slowly and shaking in the cold of the room. He was nearly, _nearly_ too skinny, and clearly many years younger and inches smaller than John himself. Around his neck was a thin, golden chain and a matching envelope, just like the one that John had found on the door.

At first, the sight of him was threatening. He was a person who had access previously to John’s chambers. He could be a spy, a threat, an assassin! But, at second glance, John realized that was likely not the case. Volians, initially enslaved by the Aschen Confederation, were now the property of the Gao’uld, and served the common purpose of free labor and sex. Based on how there was very clearly nothing covering the Volian boy’s private areas from the view of the Doctor, the boy must have been a slave as well.

John cleared his throat, more out of discomfort than anything else, and the boy looked up, saying nothing. The envelope, John figured, must have been for him. Perhaps it would be an explanation as to why the Goa’uld would consider this to be a casual gift in hopes of _prosperity_ and not a whole living being to then take care of.

As he picked it up, having to stand closer to the boy, the envelope was engraved with curly, swoopy lettering. _New Owner._ John frowned. He didn’t mind the sound of that, no, but this was something that he wished would come with a return policy.

_Trained in the arts of cooking, cleaning, and perfectly keeping house. He is kept clean and pure for you, his Owner. You may use him in whatever way you please, curtesy of the Goa’uld Empire._

John looked away after the third line began. He had had enough; he cleared his throat once again. “How old are you?” Was this a boy who had had a life before he was enslaved, or was he born into the horror? He didn’t appear to be that young, _alarmingly young._

“Twenty-seven years old, Master.” Barry said, voice quiet yet strong.

Yes, he must have been trained, but that didn’t make up for the fact that John never wanted this gift. He exhaled quietly and began to take off his coat. Barry stared at him all the while, finally having looked up from the floor. His eyes were wide and curious, nose thin and cheeks high. He was not unattractive at all…But John had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to rest after an incredibly frustrating day in which he had to live in this still world, all real actions kept away from him.

As he looked at the young boy before him, whom he was about twice as old as, his plans began to change ever-so slightly. “Do you have a name?” He asked and the boy seemed to flinch.

“Barry Allen, sir. Would you prefer for me to call you sir?”

Those eyes were far too pretty for the boy’s own good. “There is no need for you to address me.” John told him, turning on his heel. “You may roam free, as you’d like, but don’t touch anything. The facilities are free for you to use; the bathroom is there and there is leftover food in the kitchen. Have you seen the others who live here, my companions?” He called from the bedroom, where he was undressing.

“No, I haven’t.” Barry knew better than to say _sir_ now. “Would you like me to leave?”

John rolled his eyes, biting his lip as he heard the question. Of course Barry, the Volian boy, had a sweet face to match his appearance. It would make ignoring him harder. “You may stay out on the couch for now. I have to plan what to do with you now…” he mumbled.

There was no way to diplomatically refuse a gift, and because he had been thrust aside in the name of maintaining diplomacy, he had to take that into consideration. He would have to keep Barry, and Barry would have to occupy someone’s quarters before John modified the TARDIS to have another set of them. For now, he supposed, those would have to be his quarters.

Perhaps he could secretly re-gift him, send him off to somewhere that knew how to handle these sad tales of creatures tossed aside and enslaved. But how could he guarantee the boy’s relative safety? Especially when Barry was left nearly naked on the floor with each new person he was. After the notorious training slaves underwent in the Goa’uld, Barry was probably not capable of presenting himself any other way.

So for now, John would have to make use of this.

No one in the Tardis, none of John’s companions, stayed here without doing their part. John loved and made love to them, and they worked around the apartment, cleaning and offering services as they came along. Barry would have to be the same. Where could he start?

“In the morning, you can make breakfast for me, and clean up afterwards. I wake in ten hours. For now, leave me be.”

* * *

In the morning, once again, something was off. As John looked up at his ceilings, a creamy white color, he could only feel that there was a difference in the air; he could not remember what that difference was. Then came the smell of food that could not possibly be supplied by any of his other current companions, who were all mediocre in the area of cooking.

Ah, yes. Barry, the Volian _slave_ he now owned. He didn’t want a slave, but it smelled amazing, whatever he was cooking.

Coming to his feet after waking from a dream of his screaming children, John stretched his arms about beside him. Life alone had become easier. Rather than a wife and kids at his side, he had companions and work. Every day he grew more and more used to it, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

On his bedside table was the envelope, mostly unread and containing vague instructions on how to _maintain_ one’s property. He picked it up and set it in the large pocket of his robe but made no move to contain reading it. Instead, he sauntered down into the living room and kitchen, where no walls separated the spaces. Here, it was easier to breathe, scents of sweet and saltiness infiltrating his mind.

Barry, same as yesterday, was in position with his knees spread, eyes averted, and space between his legs on display. If it weren’t so early in the morning, John’s body might’ve reacted in response, but his stomach was eager enough to distract him. “Good morning,” he tried, hoping for a less unsettling response than Barry looking as if he was going to burst into tears. The boy was so timid… “Did you sleep well?” It didn’t even look as if he’d slept at all. The blankets and pillows which were set at the foot of couch were untouched. Had he not used them, or had he folded them? John gave him permission to use whatever facilities he needed, but not to touch anything. Did blankets count as a _need_ , as facilities did, or was Barry to afraid to wake him and ask?

“Very well, thank you.” He finally looked up with those beautiful brown eyes.

“Did you use the blankets?” John asked as he sat down in a dining room chair.

Barry observed the man from below his thick eyelashes. Was it safe with him? Barry doubted. His new Master, whatever his name was, appeared to be very intimidating. Beneath his robe, thick and black, were bulging muscles which couldn’t possibly be constrained by the material. His facial hair was well taken care of, the kind of fashion which took a lavish lifestyle to have. Barry had never come across a person like this in the context of serving. Usually, he was left in the back rooms of Slave Houses, being primped and prepared for display. He was, according to the Aschen and Goa’uld, one of their _premium pieces_ , which could be bought for maximum price or traded for good relations. A person such as this new Master had never before been presented to him. And, though Barry would not let himself look for more than a split second, he suspected that Master had…much to offer. He seemed to be rather massive. If Barry had any energy left in him, he might’ve been envious or even eager.

“No; I was not sure that I had permission.” He whispered, giving no clue that he was inspecting his new Owner.

“Oh. You do. If you need something, you can just ask.” Was it normal for someone to not ask? John supposed that if he were under the care of the Goa’uld, he might be just as hesitant to take risks. “I won’t be upset.”

“Thank you.”

Stale silence followed and John glanced at the stove. There appeared to be several dishes all lined up for him, all full and not taken from. He assumed Barry had not eaten, and appreciated the sentiment. John usually perpetuated the importance of him being first for daily routines. “What did you make for breakfast, then?” There appeared to be eggs and bacon on some sort of sandwich, with the fruit freshly chopped and a kind of spice peppered in.

“Eggs and bacon, traditional breakfast of my kind. I have also prepared fresh fruit. I was not sure what you would prefer, but as I am with you, I will do my very best to learn your wishes and commands.” Barry parroted, just as he had said many times over in the practicing rooms of the Slave Houses. “May I present breakfast to you?”

“Yes, yes…” John said, absentminded. The envelope in his pocket seemed to weigh a million tons, begging him to pay attention to it, to open it up and dare to read. Would it be rude to read about Barry like property in front of him? Well, no matter. Barry would be used to it. John opted for some honesty rather than friendliness. “What is supposed to be in this letter? Just information on how to own you?”

Barry frowned, but he was no longer facing his new Master. It was rare that he was asked questions directly past the first night, _if then_. It made something perk up in his stomach, even though the man was speaking about him being owned. “In the message from my Handlers you will find information on my abilities and uses, as well as how to use me to ensure your peak satisfaction.” Another thing which he had listed off in the back of the Slave House where he had been kept for the past four months in preparation for this new Master.

Though John had said nothing about himself, Barry knew much. His Master was an Ambassador for the Time Lords. He was over twice Barry’s age and was very tall in person—the file Barry had been given was correct. His Master was highly educated and enjoyed living in luxury, including this strange, personal living space which he deemed The TARDIS. He had an extensive past with powerful men and never committed to just one; Barry should be expected to be shared in the event that his Master commands it.

As Barry turned back with a plate in his hands and moved back to his knees, the formal and only acceptable way in which a Slave could travel, he shuffled closer to the man who was sitting at the table. He had a perfect view of between his Master’s legs, and his suspicion was confirmed. Yes, this man had the potential to be a very good Master, if he knew how to use all that he had. Of course, Barry was not allowed to have these thoughts. It was not his place to wish for enjoyment to come from being owned. He was here to please, and there was plenty to work with, but that may prove to be a challenge. It was a challenge he found himself almost looking forward to.

“Breakfast.” Barry whispered as he presented the plates.

The first one had sizzling sausage links in it, the perfect brown-tan color, so that the skin would split evenly and satisfyingly. The second plate was made of solid gold and porcelain, carrying on it a breakfast sandwich of favorable size, complete with spices and herbs peeking out of the egg which they were cooked into. Barry took a step back and looked at his Master, waiting to see if he was satisfied.

John took a bite and immediately was tempted to keep Barry. The food was delicious. Was it even made with spices that John had previously owned, or had they sent the boy over with some more? John didn’t even know that it was possible to have a meal like this in his own home. If he kept Barry then surely he wouldn’t have to concern himself with critiquing Wally’s cooking anymore (there was much to critique about Wally’s food).

“This is very good,” he praised. “You were trained in cooking?” He asked, thinking back to the envelope which had slipped from his mind when he saw the meal. Barry nodded and John hummed. What else was there to find in that note?

He picked it up from his pocket and allowed Barry to eat some of the food for himself, commanding him to sit in one of the smaller chairs at his side. As John ate, he began to read.

“If you’re as good at anything else in here as you are at cooking, you just may be worth keeping around…” He mumbled. “I’ve never been one to wish for a slave, especially not from the Goa’uld, but this meal was impressive. I find the events leading up to you making it distasteful, however. Keeping slaves…”

In the rest of the note he found many other skills listed. Barry could sew, sing, play the flute and the guitar, and was capable of performing—according to the note—many extravagant services in bed. How was an Empire comfortable with sending out such a letter? Had they no shame?

“You may stay in my bed tonight.” He reported to the smaller boy. “It says that you prefer to sleep with a companion rather than alone, let it be a second Slave or a Master. Is that true?” It was all too possible that that was a lie added to the letter for the purpose of enticing him.

“Yes.” Barry blushed. When his Masters were good, he much preferred to sleep beside them.

Another thing it said was that it made serving as a slave more efficient when a Slave had a name to call their Master that was just for them. John frowned at that and shook his head. There was no way that he was going to allow some stranger, even a beautiful stranger, to know his name. But… “You…You may address me as The Doctor. Or sir. You won’t be staying long, so there’s no reason for you to need any other information.”

“Thank you, Sir.” It felt strange for Barry to be sitting so high up, even if the Doctor was so much higher than him. The Doctor was three whole heads taller than him, and in this smaller chair Barry felt dwarfed by the man. He didn’t quite mind.

“There’s plenty in here regarding sex. You should know that I won’t maintain any expectations about that from you if you don’t wish. My free time is rare enough as it is; I won’t waste in on someone who isn’t truly interested.” It was true. He had other people who he was confident in, and many boring yet extensive work practices to attend to. If Barry was just going to perform and not enjoy it, it wouldn’t be worth anything.

A thought of the long member between The Doctor’s legs flashed through Barry’s mind and he blushed. “I…I am interested. That is, if you are.” 

* * *

Today was John’s one free day that he had to himself, and he had previously planned to spend it adding to his journal. Now that he had Barry sitting at the edge of his bed, his plans might change…

“Would you like me to clean the bathroom?” The boy asked, staring up at him with big brown eyes.

John was currently sitting at his desk, running his hands through his hair and looking down at the paper before him. It was, technically, secret international information between many species and peoples, and yet now it was his designated time to write about it and he had an untrustworthy stranger in his house. This, in the week or so that he had had Barry, proved to be the first problem.

John was devoted to writing down the history that had been lost in the Great Infinity War. He was one of the only ones who would remember the information since it had happened and whole species were erased from time. He had an obligation to continue writing about it, even if it including his feelings on the matter.

“Yes, yes,” he said absentmindedly, “clean the bathroom. Stay in there until you’re done; don’t leave until I know that you’re coming out. I’ll be working and I don’t want to be bothered.”

Barry shuffled off, looking adorable in his new clothes, red to compliment his eyes, and John turned back to the paper.

_It has been exactly one year since the Infinity War. I’ve begun to consider that it wasn’t worth it, creating the conflict in an attempt to stop the creation of the Daleks. Perhaps the Daleks were our sworn enemies, but we played god in that War. I played god in that war. I was the one who traded eons of culture and history for safety; I am the one who restarted time. Now what can I do about the species who were left with no memory of each other?_

_And yet because of what I did, even though I wish to make up for my actions, I am stuck on Deep Space Nine. This hell is supposedly made for diplomacy and neutrality, but the others know the truth. My kind threw me here because of my actions in the War. How can I be angry at them when I know that my actions were wrong?_

_This place does not feel like home. Though I have the TARDIS, the air is wrong here. Where is the wind that I was used to? The sounds of animals out the window which helped me fall asleep? Here in Deep Space there is nothing. There is the sound of socializing Representatives chasing me everywhere I go. There are the sounds of ringing blasters in my ears when I try to sleep. Every time that I wake up from a dream, it is because I was falling and hit the ground. They are calling it Post-Traumatic stress disorder. I’m not entirely sure that I care to acknowledge the words of the “doctor” who reported it to me. I would much rather focus on the matter at home. I fall and wake up because the bed is empty of my wife, not because I fought while I was losing her._

_Now that my family is dead, the bed is too empty. I remember my children running to our bedroom, first thing in the morning, excited for holidays and celebrations, for my wife and I to be the first ones they saw when they woke up. How can I sleep knowing my wife is not beside me and my children will not be in the morning? Here, there is none of that. I have companions. I have a_ slave _in my TARDIS. When did this become my life? Since when did wanting the Daleks gone mean getting my family killed?_

_My only chance to leave this place and move on with my life is if I can help the other Time Lords restore the power we lost in the War, but how do I do this? I am only concerned with my own power. Theirs means nothing to me. I am more consumed with the question of how to help the other species and peoples who were destroyed in the war. They were destroyed by my own actions; I have to help them._

_I have thought of many ways as to how I could assist them in rebuilding their homes and lives. None of them involve me being an Ambassador on Deep Space Nine. If I am going to continue to help other Species, I have to assist my own first, even though they would undoubtedly reject any advances of mine._

“Doctor?” Barry’s voice came from the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls, “may I come out now? I have cleaned the floors and appliances.”

The man lifted his head and frowned. Oh. Barry. He’d almost completely forgot about him, the small boy in the bathroom. “Yes, of course,” he mumbled, glancing downwards. Writing used to be therapeutic, but lately it had become nothing but depressing. Perhaps it was better when he had the events of his children’s’ lives to write about. Now he committed himself to not forgetting the horror’s he’d brought upon the universe.

The cute sound of pitter-patting feet trailed across the glassy floors and then through the carpet. John turned around to see him. Sweet pangs of _something_ flew through John’s chest.

Getting Barry settled in was a little harder than John had expected. First, it was getting him new clothes and figuring out how their daily routines would fit together. Barry got some new red robes, fitting snugly as he was used to, and they continued to eat breakfast together every morning. According to the boy, it was better for him to continue working. John wasn’t sure if it was Barry feeling indebted to him or actually enjoying the process of cooking and cleaning, but he allowed it to continue. John began to feel admiration for the smaller man, and perhaps something else. For now, he wouldn’t think of it.

“I appreciate you cleaning. Have you gone down for a run yet? The facilities are open to anyone; you shouldn’t have any trouble there.” Going on runs was something that they decided Barry could do with his time so that he wouldn’t be bored all day.

He glanced over at Barry. “Oh,” the boy said sheepishly, “no, I haven’t. I…I went down there yesterday while you were working but there were people already there. I didn’t want to disturb them.” Wringing his hands nervously, he looked down at his feet, wriggling his toes in his socks. In truth, there were men who stared at him rudely when he looked around as if he were going to join in. The other Ambassadors here and their spouses all knew that Barry was a gift from the Goa’uld. They knew that he was nothing more than a slave. How could he try to stay healthy when there were people staring at him?

“Did the other people bother you about it?” John asked, observing him suspiciously.

Barry blushed. “I…no. It’s fine, Doctor. Thank you. Is that all that you need me to clean?”

“Yes, yes. You can go about your business,” he said. “If people are being rude to you downstairs, you can tell me. They’re not supposed to express individual opinions, not when we’re here for _diplomacy_.” Yes, they were supposed to speak for their people and their people only.

But some of the people from the Goa’uld were here still and wouldn’t take kindly to Barry walking about as he pleased, as if he were a real person. It made Barry’s chest burn with anger and hatred, but that was that. What could he do about it?

“Are your companions going to be here today?” That seemed to be the term that the Doctor used for the people closest to him.

“Yes. Wally, another Ambassador worker here on Deep Space Nine, will be coming over for dinner. We’ll come back here while you clean up afterwards. You could meet him; I think that you two would get along.” They were both, after all, terribly soft-looking and seemingly kindhearted. The only difference was that Wally was treated better, like a person should be. “He is coming in about five hours.”

Barry nodded quietly. It sounded nice to meet someone new, a potential friend. But could he trust such a thing? What were the chances of another Ambassador here treating him like a real person? So far, the Doctor was the only one who had spoken to him with direct eye-contact, told him to stand up from his knees. It had been a considerably long time since the boy had received such treatment. It was hard to believe that this _Wally_ would ever be the same…

When dinnertime came around, it became apparent that the Doctor intended for Barry to stay out of their way after their meal, when the two were going to head up to the bedroom. So far, the Doctor had not made good on his intent to _appreciate_ his new gift, but Barry was not bothered. It appeared that the man was busy. Maybe it annoyed him just a little that the Doctor could make time for Wally, the guest who had yet to arrive, but Barry pushed the feelings down.

He was going to make nice with this new Ambassador whether he wanted to or not. He needed an ally in this, or, at least, he didn’t need another enemy. Barry had not asked what Wally was an Ambassador of; he was too afraid to find out that he was an ally of the Goa’uld or Aschen Confederation, and therefore would hate Barry without even looking at him. That would be crushing.

No, if he was going to get through this then it would be necessary to stay completely positive. What were the good things to focus on? He…he had a list of things which would please his new Master, the Doctor. Apparently the man had a sweet tooth and liked the dishes to be hand-washed. Barry was delighted to know that there was something he could do which would prove himself useful to the Doctor. Four months training for this man meant that Barry _had_ to do a good enough job to be accepted as a gift. If he was sent back to the Goa’uld, who knew what they would do to him? Plus, and though Barry would never truly admit this to himself, maybe, just maybe, he wanted to please the Doctor for reasons past his wanting to stay safe. Maybe he wanted to be truly appreciated rather than tolerated. Particularly by someone as attractive as his new Master.

He had new clothes, too. Those were very nice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Next chapter, while they're sent earlier to the person who is having me write this, will be posted on archive on December 11th.
> 
> Coming up in the next chapter: Barry and wally meet, talk of the jaffa rebellion, and john wants to find a way to help the struggling species, but how?


	2. Chapter 2

Barry was used to people looking down at him, pretending as if he wasn’t there. Wally was no different. When the man walked into the entryway of the TARDIS, he kept his head held high and went straight to embrace the Doctor like a long-lost friend. The Doctor grinned widely at the sight of the man, taller than Barry had expected.

“It’s good to see you. How was your trip?” The Doctor asked, ushering him towards the seating area without bothering to introduce him and Barry.

“Good, good,” his voice was quiet. “And who might this be?”

“Ah, Wally this is Barry. The Goa’uld sent him as a _gift_. He’s Volian. Barry, this is Wally. He’s a First Prime Jaffa; he works for a System Lord Ambassador here.”

Wally greeted him politely, even daring to reach forward in a handshake, the formal greeting of Volian people before they were destroyed and their culture was suppressed. Barry nearly jumped back in surprise. “It’s very nice to meet you, Wally, sir.” He said, head bowed gently. This was a…surprise.

The other man smiled widely. He had deep, inset eyes and chocolate brown skin, ears poking out from his curly hair. It had been a long time since Barry had seen someone so…objectively handsome. Though he could not compare to the Doctor. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I’m used to only seeing the Doctor around here.” He looked at the Doctor and John smiled. Of course, they spent most of their time alone here.

“Yes. Anyway, my work is in my office, here,” John said conversationally and began to lead the man off. Barry took the action as his queue to leave them be. There were only so many little details he’d been able to scrape up about the two of them, but as far as he could understand, Wally wanted into the Doctor’s good graces, as everyone else, and had formed a _bond_ in order to progress with his plans. The two were expected to be left alone.

He began to scrub clean the pots and pans in the sink, humming a silent song in his head as he wondered more about the two of them. His hand still felt tingly from being shaken. When was the last time someone had greeted him like that, as a person? Perhaps it was the Doctor, though he had been too surprised at the sight of Barry to really be polite. What else could Barry expect from a new master, after all?

In the office, Wally seated himself in the usually comfortable, leather couch, lifting a leg to cross over his other as he leaned back. In his hand was a glass of whisky, a host’s gift from the Doctor. “My people are still suffering, as usual,” Wally informed him, “and my trip could not do much about it. The Goa’uld still retain power.” He had gone back to his home world for a week in an attempt to gather information on those he was spying on, but to no avail. The Goa’uld were getting better at hiding their secrets. Arrogance was not to Wally’s advantage this time.

“No progress at all?” John asked, pouring himself a drink to match his friend’s. It was about time that he had a drink. Ever since Barry had come into the house, he’d been on high alert in case something went wrong. He would have to be in tip-top shape if it turned out that the boy was secretly poisoning him. Now, after a few days, he felt secure enough that Barry would do no such thing. There didn’t appear to be an evil bone in his body.

“None. Just look at what those monsters did to your friend out there, sending him here as a _gift_ , you said? You know they must be stopped.” Wally muttered. The Goa’uld were not just the repressors of the Volian, but of Wally’s people as well. Maybe he wouldn’t make trouble by crossing social lines and speaking out to Barry himself—it would be inappropriate to Barry in such a situation where he could get into trouble—but he was not afraid to speak to the Doctor about it alone. Besides, it wasn’t as if Wally was insolent enough to disagree with those he worked for, who he did consider his natural enemy. The System Lord of the Goa’uld may have been his superior, but what could he truly accomplish from fighting individually? He needed the Doctor’s help before he could come out directly against the Goa’uld in another Rebellion.

John sighed. He knew that this was coming, of course. The Rebellion of the Jaffa people against their oppressors was a long time coming, and it was just about to finally begin. There would be no time for Wally’s usual socializing in such a dire situation as this one. “Of course I know that they must be stopped. They’re the aggressors here, I would argue. I’m not sure what you think I would be able to do, Wally.” He wouldn’t come here if there weren’t some benefit other than their _socializing._

“You could do much, if you put your resources to good use. You know that-“

“I have no resources. I am on Deep Space Nine; I’ve been shut off from the rest of my people. What am I supposed to do?” He set his glass down on the table beside him. His office was supposed to be a place of relative peace, where only so far Barry and Wally had been allowed inside.

Speaking of how he could do nothing when he had all of his journals filled to the brim with _I must do something_ only made his heart ache. He wished for nothing more than to be able to help these species, but how? What could he possibly do, fight again? That had not worked out well last time. It just led to the erasure of whole species, or whole histories. If he couldn’t fight, what else could he possibly do.

“I know that talking about this isn’t fun; maybe it doesn’t seem like a pressing issue to you, but you have to understand that there’s only so much I can do if I don’t try to reach out to other people. I realize that you’re here, but you’re not defenseless. You’re not weak, Doctor. Maybe you don’t want to fight, and I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking you to help. I mean, you have access to economic infrastructure which could be used to our benefit. You just have to find a way without raising suspicion from the rest of your kind.”

Wally’s gaze was solid, desperate for John to show that he agreed in any sort of way. He just took a drink. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be. You talked before of making something from this place, something _real_. You know that the Rebellion is going to begin soon. You don’t have to have any sort of formal role in it, even. But if you took action on some of the things that people know you’re already interested in, no one would wonder about it. There would be no reason to suspect you of anything more than wanting to, say, expand a business.”

“A business?”

Wally nodded. “You speak always of the minerals lying around unused here, of how this place could be more than some useless base of diplomacy. You have the power to make it more. Think about it,”

John held up a hand. A _business…_ He had mentioned that before. “You want me to actually move on the mining business? Wally, do you know how big a risk that would be?” He had spoken previously about how it was potentially possible for someone to swing into Deep Space Nine and make something of the place, but he’d spoken of it as a threat to him, not a way out!

“Well, what do you have to lose, John? You’re here and you’re not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere unless you choose to try and move forward. They’re not going to let you leave unless you prove that you’re worth something to them. They want power, you can get yourself power. _Economic_ power, the kind of power that the Time Lords cannot ignore.”

The man shook his head. No, no. That…that was a very extreme plan. And no doubt Wally was only suggesting it so that the Rebellion may profit from it, or at least benefit. Perhaps he had a point about the plan having potential, but to bring it to life would mean to being creating chaos in the one place where disorder was not allowed. How would that not capture the attention of the Time Lords in a bad way? If John had economic power, just a little from starting up a company, then how would they not choose to squash it or steal it?

“They want that power for themselves. If I try to better my life, to make myself a name, then they’ll feel threatened. They’ll just kill me instead.”

“Not if you convince them that they’ll benefit too. There are ways to do this, John.”

He ran his fingers through his facial hard, tugging on the ends of it subconsciously. Goodness, it was too much to take in. How could Wally really come in here and simple suggest something so extreme? Maybe Wally was living in a time of desperation and rebellion, but John wasn’t! If he wanted, he could stay safe right here…just…just watch everyone else struggle…he could do nothing. But Wally didn’t have that luxury.

So, of course he wanted something extreme.

Did John, too, want that? Isn’t that what he wrote about in those damned journals? He was constantly frustrated by the idea of having to sit back and do nothing. At least this was an idea.

“If you could just listen to my ideas, I know that I’m not the mastermind behind of the Great things that you have done, but I’m sure that I can be of help. I’m sure that you can do something…” Wally said, nearly scrambling to get John to latch onto a word.

“I…Fine. I will listen. If I can come up with something that will work, then I’ll try. But I can’t make any promises.”

A wide, exhausted smile stretched across Wally’s face. “Thank you.”

* * *

Barry desperately wanted to listen into their conversation. They were one flight of stairs up, about ten yards away. He could do it, if he wanted to; if he wanted to risk his safety. There was no saying what might happen the first time that the Doctor was angered. Barry didn’t want to see it.

He was curious, though. So, Wally was not an Ambassador as he the Doctor had said. It must have been easier to simplify it as just that rather than to explain that he worked for one. Perhaps there were…secrets between the two of them. After all, meeting someone who only _works_ for an Ambassador, inviting them into your home? Into your private office? That was a bit taboo, and in more of a way than just romantic secrets. Barry was very confident that if they were going to have sex, they would be in the bedroom instead of the office. That place was too clean for it to be used for anything unsavory. Was there some shady business going on?

What business might they have together, then? Perhaps they were secretly lovers, more emotionally connected than physically. That didn’t seem to be the case. The Doctor almost regarded him as a friend rather than someone he felt much for. Could it be that Wally was married, then? Barry hadn’t seen a ring…

He ran his hands along the basin of the sink, attempting to figure out what could be going on behind the closed doors of the room he was never to come near unless he had explicit permission. It had been two hours since the men had entered, almost lunchtime. It was strange for the Doctor to not come out for food; it seemed to be one of the only things he indulged himself in besides his possessions. He rarely took time for himself outside of meals.

Barry had been here days now and the Doctor had yet to make good on his promise of _appreciating_ his gift. Barry was almost becoming anxious about it. Perhaps even excited. Was it strange to be excited about being with a man that he didn’t have much of a choice about?

The Doctor was just a very large man, overall. His limbs were long, chest was thick and shoulders were far apart. Not to mention his muscles and other attributes, but Barry felt his mouth watering at the thought of it. Rarely was Barry allowed to have individual thoughts of his own, individual feelings. All personal aspects of slaves were torn apart when they were apprehended. But this, this secret coveting of the man, it felt like it was just for him. Maybe Wally would know that something was going to happen between the two of them, but outside of him? He was nothing more than a house slave that the Doctor clearly didn’t want to keep.

No one knew that Barry wanted him, or that the Doctor wanted Barry.

A door loudly opened behind him as he began tossing the meat into the pan, hearing it simmer. The two men were descending from the stairs, speaking loudly as they went. Their conversation, now, revolved around what sounded like faux small talk, as Wally went to retrieve his coat. Barry didn’t even have the chance to bring it to him himself, and it made his heart have. He didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t fast enough to get it for him! Wally getting it himself made Barry look bad…But the Doctor didn’t seem to notice.

“It was good to see you, Wally. I hope that you have a safe trip home.” John said, watching the man put on the rest of his attire. He looked good in black.

“Thank you. I hope that we can see each other soon, you know. Call me if you have an update on the paperwork.”

“Will do, will do…”

With that, Wally walked out into the hallway and began to descend down the stairway. John turned back to face the boy in the kitchen. “You’re making lunch?”

“Yes. I thought that as a snack for later I might prepare hot chocolate. I was testing out recipes and I think that I’ve found the perfect one.” Barry was just a little less afraid to come near the man, wooden spoon in hand to offer him a taste of the sauce which would be in the pasta. “Do you prefer things more or less spicy.”

John nodded to himself as he took the spoon. The sauce was thick, as he preferred, and had an almost brash spice to it, bold in its burning of his tongue. He appreciated it that way rather than stinging in the back of his mouth. “This is good.”

“I’m glad that you like it.” If Barry felt differently about himself and his position, he may have said _thank you_ in response, but it was not a compliment on himself or his work. No. it was expected of him to create good food. He was pleased to be meeting his Master’s expectations, but took it as no sign that he would be kept. He wanted very much to be kept by the Doctor, but he had no suspicions that that’s how it would turn out.

“After you’re done cooking, why don’t you put the food in the fridge? I won’t be hungry until later. You can come up to my bedroom, keep my bed warm for me as I work. I think I’ll be lying down as I look through some documents.” He sighed. “They’re much too complicated for my taste…”

Barry tried not to blush at the idea of keeping his _bed warm_. He knew that the Doctor would probably be more forward if it were sex he wanted, and he probably did just want the casual company, but the boy couldn’t help but to blush. The Doctor was very intriguing. How could he not be interested?

He had never had a Master before who was just interested in him for the purpose of company. That and cleaning seemed to be the only things that the Doctor was entirely focused on. Of course, there was mention of other things, and Barry had made all of the meals, but the Doctor didn’t appear to have a cruel bone in his body. Demeaning, perhaps—he made no move to prevent Barry’s embarrassment when he was being measured by the tailor—but not cruel. It was almost as if he could empathize with a slave. That may have been the most mesmerizing thing about him.

The boy moved to finish lunch as fast as he could and the Doctor retreated towards his room. Barry had been given permission to eat as much as he needed and to add to the grocery list whatever they were missing in the apartment, but he refrained from reaching towards the meat he’d prepared once it was done. It felt as if he needed to present something special to his Master. To eat it for himself, even if it was just enough for him, seemed like bad behavior to him.

It took a half an hour for the whole meal to be finished and another ten for it to be packaged away into the fridge. Once he was done, scents of sweet spices filling the air, he ran his fingers through his hair and began his ascent on the main staircase. Only one day in the week or so that he had been here—he didn’t actually keep track of the days himself—had Barry been allowed to stay in the Doctor’s bedroom, and he had slept wonderfully. Perhaps he would be allowed another night…

He knocked nervously on the door. “Come in, come in…” The older man said. He was seated on the bed, legs under the covers but torso left untouched, leaning over a stack of papers before him. “You must be tired from cleaning all of yesterday. The apartment looks much better; I appreciate your work.” It would be wrong for him not to acknowledge everything that Barry had done around here. He’d spent far too long on his knees scrubbing. “You should rest, now. Take a nap…I’m just going to be working. Perhaps later we could go down to the main level, use the pool.”

Barry thought it unlikely that anyone would allow him into the public pool, but the idea was nice. “That sounds nice,” he slid into the bed beside the man, accepting the offering of raised blankets to him. Nearly hesitant, he snuggled forward just a little to be closer to John’s side.

“You do prefer sleeping together, then?” John asked, amused. Barry looked so small like that, all curled up into a ball. How was someone so little?

He nodded. “Yes. It’s warmer.”

John decided that Barry was intriguing. Something in those sweet, big brown eyes made John want to start a real conversation. He was so rarely engaged in anything other than hating Deep Space Nine; it felt nice to have something else on his mind. Did Barry have family? Did he have somewhere that he would want to be returned to, void of his captors? Perhaps, did he want to stay here?

“Was it cold where they kept you before?” He inquired, thinking that perhaps it would give him into more insight as to how well he was previously taken care of. No slave owner in the universe had a reputation for being caring, but John would like to know if there real emotional problems in this person whose well-being he was now in charge of. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try to help…like Wally always encouraged him.

He sighed. There was no reason to think of Wally now. Those conversations only worked to stress him out. It was the last thing that he needed.

“I was in many places. They never keep us in one building. With the Aschen it was cold, though it got better with the Goa’uld…still, I don’t like to take warmth for granted.” That was one of the best things about this cozy apartment. At any time he wanted, he had free reign of all of the blankets, and the hot fireplace in the living room. Of course, he was usually too busy to snuggle up in front of it. “It’s one of my favorite things about your house.” He wasn’t sure if it was, in fact, an apartment they were in. Apparently, this place was Deep Space Nine, which the Doctor hated, though he loved his home—the TARDIS. “Do you prefer this place, the TARDIS?” It was rare that Barry asked an unprompted question, but those instincts in him, those instincts to _wonder aloud_ , got the better over him.

“Yes. The TARDIS is mobile. It is with me wherever I am. Even here on Deep Space Nine. Where I lived before, it was with me too. No matter where I am, it’ll be here. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Barry blushed. “This is one of the places that I most enjoy, of all the buildings I’ve been kept in.”

John nodded, considering the wording. _I’ve been kept in…_ not _I’ve lived in_ , but _I’ve been kept_. Truly, nothing was up to Barry, was it? He hadn’t every chosen somewhere to be, only had been thrown into the mix of new people and planets against his will. Struck by his change from apathy to empathy, John shook his head. He…he wanted to be the one to let Barry go somewhere, to choose what he did. He wanted to _save_ this boy.

Why?

“It’s…I suppose that I’ve never asked, really, what you want. Would you wish to stay here? I could bring you back to your home planet, if it still stands. Or, perhaps, if you have any family left…”

Barry shook his head. “They were all taken. If you want me to go, you can send me back to the Goa’uld. I can be repurposed.”

“I don’t even want to think about what that means,” John muttered. Cruelty was too common in this place… “No. I want to know what _you_ wish.”

Barry frowned. What…what _he_ wanted? It had been a long time since he’d openly thought about that. What did he even want? Surely, he wanted to stay here. That was the obvious option. Wherever else the Goa’uld sent him, it could be worse than anything he’d faced before. But he didn’t know much about this place. Was the Doctor even a good person, or did he just have manners? Sometimes people did this, pretended that they were good so that someone else might trust them. What if the Doctor was doing this? Barry was not naïve enough to believe otherwise so soon.

He wouldn’t want to stay if the Doctor didn’t want him, anyway. How could he live like that, knowing no one wanted him? He could not live on the sidelines, watch Wally and his Master disappear into a room, knowing he was not allowed in.

“I…I would appreciate the opportunity to stay a little longer. I would only want to be here if I knew that you wanted me to stay. I can prove my worth to you, Doctor. In time, I believe that you might appreciate me being here, even if you didn’t choose it in the first place.”

John couldn’t help but to wonder if this was how Barry always felt, as if it was necessary to make the best of bad situations? Even if someone forces something upon you that you’re not at all prepared for—like taking care of another person, or having another person take care of you—you have to continue on and make sure that your world keeps turning.

“That’s fine with me. So far, you’ve been a great help, you know.” The Doctor had praised him frequently so far, though Barry thought that it was just out of politeness, as if Barry was an unwanted guest. “I hope that if you choose to stay, this could be your home. I know the other options for you are probably…unsavory.”

What were the other options, even? Being _repurposed_ , whatever that meant. Perhaps if he did end up assisting Wally in that Rebellion of his and the Jaffa did win, John could send Barry to live there in safety. He could be a real person there. After a coup, there was no room to focus on suppression, after all.

But he couldn’t mention that to Barry. No, it was secret. For now, he would speak to Wally in private about it, and ask about considerations of a new Jaffa citizens, perhaps under a new fake identity. It would be a big change for such a small boy, but Barry had already faced too much for his age. How the boy was so young…

Barry took a moment to admire the warm sheets all around him, silky around his skin. The blankets downstairs, though a safe haven amidst the colder night air, were nothing compared to this. All of the intricacies of the Doctor’s bedroom were something that an older, secret part of Barry would envy later. Gold clocks, thick, wooden wardrobes full of anything that a person could wish…to have such a surplus of possessions was something that Barry could never have fathomed as a child. Clearly, whatever salary the Doctor made here was doing him well.

“If you are to stay, then,” the man announced, leaning back on the bed and allowing his head to hit the soft pillows behind him, “you’ll need something to occupy yourself. If you’d like, you can have your own room set up.”

“the couch is fine, if it’s too much work.”

John frowned. Well, that’s not what he’d meant. “No, no…you can sleep in here with me. For your own private times, however, you’ll need your own space. I’ll have some things ordered; we can get a room set up. Do you prefer red?”

“Yes, very much. A…a whole room, sir?” The word slipped out. He forgot that the Doctor seemed to find it distasteful to be called sir.

“Of course. Maybe we could find work for you somewhere outside of here. There are jobs to take notes or do translations down in the offices. Can you write?” Barry nodded. “Do you have any other skills?”

“My skills mostly revolve around cooking and singing. I don’t suppose that the Ambassadors here have a huge need for that…”

“Well, not necessarily. Singing, maybe not, and you already clean for me… You could take notes for an hour or so every day. There are low-level meetings which never have anyone set to take notes. I don’t think it’d be a breach of security to have you there, either. It pays relatively well. You could buy something from the stores. Would you be interested in that?”

“Yes.” The chance to make his own money? He hadn’t had that in forever. “I…usually, we don’t get paid.” That’s sort of in the job description: unpaid servant for life…

“Well, I don’t believe in slavery. Honestly, it’s barbaric. I can’t risk conflict within Deep Space Nine, though. Especially not with the Goa’uld too. Otherwise, I would’ve figured out another situation for you sooner. Whatever happens, we’ll need to be discreet. If they’ve got a problem with you working for pay, they can argue it with me.” Even the thought of facing that damned Ambassador who had given him Barry was enough to make John blister with anger, but he kept it inside. It would do nothing more than scare the boy off. “I’ll check if they need anyone to sit in on meetings. Do you think that you’d do well with that?”

“I think so. I haven’t written in a very long time, though. I could use some time to refresh my memory.” His voice was small. He didn’t like being asked about what _he_ thought of his performance. Rarely was his opinion asked of him, especially to evaluate himself. Say that you’re better than you are, and you’re a liar, a failure. Say you’re worse, you may miss an opportunity for something greater, for praise. “I would be very glad for the opportunity, though. Thank you.”

John smiled and something nagged in Barry’s brain, a little pull yelling out _handsome, handsome_. “I can have some things brought into your room, then. Books.” Most people don’t prefer hand writing anymore, but it came in handy with the secrecy and security of Deep Space Nine. “And, some other things.” John was well aware that Barry had eagerly been awaiting his attention since the other night, and he had yet to get _close_ with him as they’d spoken about. John wouldn’t always have the time to please Barry, as he was taken to doing with all of his partners, though Barry was technically here to please him, so he would have toys put into the room instead. He didn’t love the idea of something so impersonal coming into contact with such a sweet, small boy, but he would allow it for now. Barry would need something to do while John was going through the documents. After all, if he was going to consider this extravagant idea—a _mining company_ —then it was going to take time.

Barry didn’t ask what _other things_ meant. Instead, he accepted with a nod and a slight blush. “Thank you very much, Doctor. If there’s anything else that I could do in return, I gladly would.” Oh, he _gladly_ would. Just being so close to the bigger man, breathing in his musky scent and feeling the heat of his body, it was enough to make him want to cry. When was the last time that he’d found comfort in the physicality of another person?

Though how could he not? With a man as admirable as the Doctor, it would surely be impossible not to feel the effects of his looks. Barry couldn’t be the only one.

“You’ve been very good this week. Though, I could think of a few things I might like…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next:
> 
> The Jaffa rebellion, smut, more about Barry, development of the mining company.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Jaffa rebellion, smut, more about Barry, development of the mining company

Their daily routine was comforting. It had been so long since Barry had had a moment to look around and appreciate whatever good he had in his life; it was always working and cleaning and worrying about what his latest Master would think of his every breath and move. When he was here where he had _free time_ for the first time in his life, there was so much to do! The Doctor got him a set of watercolor paints and a guitar so that he could play. Every once in a while, he sang for his new Master or worked on his reading. He was fairly well-educated, but the Doctor had a vast collection of books about anything and everything—real books with paper pages instead of the digital kind that Barry used before.

One afternoon he sat inside the office with the Doctor—the man would never allow him to be in there alone—and wrote in the pages of a new blank notebook. “How do I say this word? I haven’t seen it before, I don’t think.” Barry asked the other man, who was sitting in the loveseat a yard or so away. Barry had long since outgrown the fear of speaking before spoken to. Of course, he still rarely said things with finality, always adding an _I believe_ or _possibly_ to the end of his sentences. That way, he could retain some deniability if what he said ended up being wrong.

A sort of fondness had grown between the two of them. They didn’t have to talk, sometimes just sitting close and saying nothing, but it almost felt as if it was done in solidarity. John had to admit that he was liking this, having a… _person_ around. He didn’t like the sound of _slave_.

“You say it like krit-ee-k,” John enunciated, scooting closer to his companion so that he may see over the boy’s shoulder to the word. “Ah, you’re reading about the Great War.”

“Yes,” Barry nodded, and then frowned slightly. The Great War was a recent event, something that not many physical books were actually created based on. It was possible that the Doctor didn’t want him understanding something so relevant to his life. “Is that okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure. He was already flinching back as if he expected to be reprimanded. Slaves were not supposed to be educated unless they were for the purpose of diplomacy. Even then, they were intended to be silent acquaintances, thinking and seeing nothing. Too strong a knowledge—or, possibly even an _opinion_ —on current events was unacceptable.

“Of course, of course. The book is not one hundred percent accurate, but it will do.” It didn’t have any of the erased knowledge, John’s biggest failure, but it generalized the war well enough. It would do Barry well.

He sighed. Knowing that Barry was reading that, taking in the same ignorance that the rest of existence suffered…well, it was hard. It was hard to ignore that sinking feeling of _I’m the reason he’s not learning about those species…_

With a shake of his head, he stepped up onto his feet. Goodness, he needed to get more exercise. Now that he had entertainment at home—the friendly kind, not sexual—he had been spending too much time sitting. It wasn’t good for him. He was a muscular man and it wouldn’t fade away so easily, but he was slowly falling out of his good habits. It was time to get back into them.

As he prepared to head out of the room, he glanced back at the book. Oh, those species. How he had erased them…He was standing behind Barry. He didn’t consider that it might seem a bit of a menacing position. “Yes, the book doesn’t have it all…”

Barry swallowed. “…Doctor?”

The man snapped out of his daze slightly. His mind had wandered off to that _risk_ that Wally had brought to his attention: a company of his very own to help those species, and the others that were hurt. Having books face-up, reminding him of his sins made it harder to stop thinking about. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a step back from the awkward boy. “I didn’t mean to stand so close. That book just bothers me.”

“Would you like me to put it away?” Barry said immediately.

“No, no. You read. I am going to head down to the gym. I would have worked out by now, but I’ve been spending far too much time here.” His words were absentminded, and he walked over to the wardrobe without a thought. He would need gym clothes.

Barry was immediately at his side, assisting in helping John to get his robes on and off. Oh, how Barry wanted to stare. The man was toned and pale, lean and strong, everything that Barry loved in a good Master. They _still_ had yet to compensate their strange relationship, and if he were more accustomed to allowing himself such loose urges, Barry may even have become impatient by now.

Together they shed his robes and he put on his athletic clothes, somehow making him look even better. They just defined his muscles better.

He walked off to the gym and Barry left the office, allowed to take his book with him.

* * *

The idea of the company gave John much to think about while he worked out in a far-away room of the TARDIS. The gym which, was his own personal gym—he didn’t plan on every letting Barry down here—was stark silent and nearly cold, a perfect environment for him to exercise in.

This way, when he was all alone, he would finally get the chance to think things through and consider his next move. It was hard to do that when he could only think of the past, though.

He could still remember so vividly standing in a ship, watching out of the glass as the universe before him was destroyed. Commanders and Time Lords were screaming all around him, throwing their technobabble back and forth in a desperate attempt to save the day. Their words had been so precise, so pointed, but what could a panel of commanders with incredible knowledge do when John had already destroyed any hope that they had.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about how he had been treated after that. They had said his name, his true name, one of his deepest secrets, and used it against him. It still rung in his ears every once in a while, in nightmares and fever dreams _. “_ _Krylancelo philiophile Von Durga DI Khushrenada, you have disappointed us all. You are nothing!”_ He breathed out evenly and neared his punching bag, the piece of equipment which he’d spent the most time with since the death of his family.

“Agh,” he groaned after minutes of pounding against the bag. The steady sound of his fists hitting it was all that kept him stable.

Above his head, a familiar voice sounded. _“Any longer hitting that bag and you will sustain injuries, Doctor.”_ Mr. Smith said, watching from his point in the corner.

John glanced upwards, but just barely. He didn’t feel like talking right now. “I don’t care, honestly.” He exhaled.

_“If you are injured, there will only be Barry to take care of K9.”_

John huffed out a laugh. He had urged K9 to stay away from Barry at first because the boy hadn’t even realized that the little dog lived in the TARDIS until a couple days ago, and he had hit him with a broom when the dog snuck up on him. Since then, K9 did not like to go near him. “You have a point there.”

_“Knuckle injuries require an unpleasant healing process. May I suggest that you yell instead, or take a bath?”_

“I don’t want to take a bath, I want to hit something.”

_“You should wait until Wally gets back.”_

He rolled his eyes. Those two didn’t get along, a little too jealous in their own ways. Mr. Smith got to be around the Doctor more often, and Wally got a physical connection. “Leave him alone. He’s nice.”

_“He wants you to start an entire company so that he may benefit from it.”_

“You know that’s not the whole story.”

_“No matter. Are you going to do it? That may attract unwanted attention.”_

The Doctor very much tended to do whatever he wanted, provided that he show up for his mandatory Ambassador business. If people started looking into him, making connections with him, then he would have to do even more. Less time for his companions, for the people that he _should_ be around.

“I’m not sure yet.” John muttered. “There are a lot of pros and cons to the situation. You know that. If…if I do nothing, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to live like that. And I don’t have any other ideas, really…” his voice faded off, and he closed his eyes as he breathed through his nose. He had exactly zero other ideas of ways to help these species. He could feel that soon conflict would arise; it was clear by the oh-so _diplomatic_ exchanges he’d seen occurring around here. “I have to do something. I’m beginning to think that this may be that something…a company…” John went back to the bag, though taking things a little lighter.

Mr. Smith tried not to cringe at the idea. Truly, while he was capable of empathy, he did not want the Doctor to do anything. Of course, Mr. Smith would always be there no matter where the man went, but the man was not always with him. There was too much potential for _business_. And business meant that the Doctor was far too occupied to be at home. What was the computer going to do without him?

_“If you do go through with this plan, I will help you stay safe. If Wally’s connection to the Rebellion comes to light, there will be backlash against you.”_

“I appreciate that.” He continued his hits against the bag, placing them perfectly and feeling the burn in his shoulder muscles. It gradually turned to an ache between his shoulder blades, oddly placed.

_“Barry is wandering once again. I believe he has a short attention span.”_ Mr. Smith interrupted.

“He’s just wandering?”

_“Yes. It is annoying_.”

John scoffed. “You’re just going to have to get used to it. I’m keeping him around.”

Mr. Smith’s voice was not quite quizzical, but more as if he was just asking for confirmation. _“You like him?”_

“Yes.”

_“Do you like him as you like K9, like something to keep, or like Wally? Someone to_ be with _as a person?”_ Mr. Smith sometimes struggled with understanding these strange and complex emotions. He was clearly far superior than the rest of them, though the Doctor was favorable.

“I like him as a person. Just because those evil people kept him like an object does not mean that that is how I see him.” John answered. He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I suppose I should get back to him, then. He probably doesn’t have much to do, all holed up in here.” As the man went to grab his bag of clothes, he panted slightly. His workout had been a little too strong in the beginning, and he was surely going to feel it in an hour or so. “That would be another advantage of starting a mining company. Barry could hold a position somewhere; it would give him something to do.”

_“Please do not get involved with treason because your skinny boy is bored. I am also bored, but I do not pace.”_

“You’re a computer stuck to a ceiling.”

_“And therefore superior.”_

John chuckled and made his way back upstairs.

* * *

Barry was bent over the stovetop, staring at the sweet treat which was quietly sizzling in the pan. Warm smells of cinnamon floated through the air, a welcome break from the cleaning products which had previously hung in his nose. He untied his apron and hung it up on the hook— _his_ hook. The Doctor had designated it as his when he’d first gotten here. It was the mark on the TARDIS which was officially Barry’s. He observed it with a flare of emotion. It had been so long since he’d had something which belonged to him permanently.

In the corner, K9 chirped at the sight of the food. He knew that as soon as there were sweets around, the Doctor would come.

“K9, please be quiet,” Barry muttered. “All you do is make noise.” He didn’t like the little metal dog one bit. All it did was roam around and make little sounds. Why did the Doctor even have him?

“He does more than that,” a voice sounded from behind Barry and the boy turned around.

“Oh. How was your workout? I’ve made sweets.”

John grinned. “Ah, trying to undo all my hard work.” He laughed, “I’ll have some when I’m back from my shower. Would you like to join me?”

Barry’s head seemed to reboot at the mention of _joining_ him, but he nodded eagerly. “Yes, please,” he responded, voice lowered. John appeared to be chipper as always, almost as if he _didn’t_ mean it in a sexual way. Did he?

They trailed up the staircase together, passing all sorts of ornamental decorations on the way. They only reminded Barry that the Doctor was far out of his league, and that he was finally going to get a chance with _the_ Doctor. The man he’d been pining after since he’d first arrived!

As they walked into the bedroom and through to the bathroom, John was casually undressing himself. Barry only stopped to help once they were both standing on the tiled floor in front of the shower. “You don’t have to be nervous,” John soothed him. Barry almost seemed to be feverish in his movements, shaking a little, and it took a lot for an emotion to show through his years of slave-training with the Goa’uld and Aschen. John wasn’t sure how much the boy had actually done sexually. Maybe this was pressing his boundaries too much. “This can just be about getting clean. I’d like to spend tonight with you, so this way you’ll have time to shower now.”

Barry nodded, _okay, okay…_ Not sexual, then…Alright. He could work with that. He could breathe a little easier now.

John stepped into the shower, now completely undressed, tan skin reflecting light against the walls, and Barry slowly moved to take off his own clothes. Never had he had a master who would respect him enough to do so, but the Doctor actually turned to face the various shampoos and conditioners so that Barry would have privacy as he took his robes off.

It felt good to finally get the sweat and grime off of his body. John sighed at the

sensation. Mr. Smith had been right about him overworking himself. His muscles ached and creaked as he reached for the bottles on the shelves. He heard the quiet, wet, sound of feet trailing their way into the large box which was the shower. It was so spacious that there was even a little raised part of the floor which made for a seat, though John wasn’t sure who would sit in the shower for any other reason than to shave his legs. This was where his wife Rose used to shave her legs-

“Doctor?” Barry’s timid voice split his thoughts

“What is it?” The man asked, turning around and making sure that his eyes didn’t wander from the boy’s face. He had already planned how this would go. He just needed the boy to be a little more comfortable with his body. With _their_ bodies. He wouldn’t have to do anything if he didn’t feel ready, though John hoped that he was.

“Do you have another bar of soap in here?” Usually, Barry showered in his own bathroom. “Or should I…I use yours?” He wasn’t sure if the man would consider that to be unsanitary. Most Masters would never dream of sharing soap with a mere slave. Slaves were dirty. 

“I’m all sweaty,” John chuckled. “I brought a new one in here for you. It’s over to the left, up a little bit,” the boy grabbed it, “so that it can be yours in here. Whenever we shower in here, you can use that one.”

Barry blushed. _Whenever._ That implied that there would be many times they would _shower_ together. He very much liked the idea of that. While he hadn’t brought himself to look down at the most tempting places of the Doctor, he was excited by even the idea of being around him. What wasn’t to like? Even while he kept his gaze upwards, he could see strong back muscles, white soap trailing down wet skin, water spraying through dark hair… It was the most intriguing image that anyone could have conjured up.

“I liked working out, though Mr. Smith was worried that I was taking it too hard. He tends to concern himself with things that are out of his control,” John said, making conversation. “Could you scrub my back?” He then asked and Barry froze in his place.

There was conditioner in the man’s hair, falling down slowly and thickly. Barry wanted to save it, but that would mean touching the Doctor with his bare hands.

“Of course,” the Volian boy whispered as he neared the man’s back. It was like an intimidating plane in front of him; his hands almost shook as he reached out and ran the washcloth across John’s back. The man seemed unbothered by it, however, and continued to run some sort of cream through his beard.

“What kind of dessert did you make?”

At this question, Barry berated himself for not making more conversation. He was being _weird_ , and that was the kind of behavior that got people kicked out of homes.

But was it weird to wonder why the man had made no move to touch him so far? It’d been weeks and Barry considered himself to be a pleasant enough person. Here they were naked, completely… _platonic_. That wasn’t really what he wanted.

“I don’t know the name for it. It is an old recipe that I had memorized. It expands like a fluffy pastry and then you fill it with a sweet jelly. It was my favorite as a child.”

John smiled. It was nice to hear something so… _normal_ regarding Barry’s childhood. All too often there were masked ideas of pain and resentment in his voice. Heavily masked. This seemed…true.

“Did your mother make it?”

“Yes. It was very good. I believe you’ll like it.” He said. “I also looked through your family recipes. I planned on making the _pancakes_ in a few days.” Barry’s attempt at small-talk was almost painful. “I…Do you have anything to do tonight? Will I be assisting with anything?” Barry asked, wondering if perhaps tonight would be their only chance to get true alone-time together.

John smiled gradually and turned around to face the boy. “No, I’ve got nothing. Tonight, I wanted to just spend with you…does that sound alright?” He felt the strange urge to call the boy _pet_ , but it seemed out place given that some people would actually attempt to keep a Volian boy as a pet.

They continued basking in the heat, steam climbing up the walls and almost dripping down as they stood together, John taking the time every once in a while to run a hand over Barry’s soft skin. When the man felt daring, he pressed a kiss into the boy’s wet hair and whispered that he didn’t need to be nervous about this, that they were only here to get clean.

It wasn’t really true. John hadn’t gotten all the time he’d had liked to to inspect his latest intrigue, and this was the perfect time to truly take a moment and appreciate his _gift_. He was curious. He couldn’t help himself.

Barry was beautiful. His eyes were soft and shy, his skin was smooth and creamy. His was rather skinny, and something about it excited his new Master. John towered above him, in height and age. He held all the power in the situation, and though he did wish that this had been born from another situation, he couldn’t help but to bask in the feeling.

“You’re beautiful,” John whispered into the slave’s ear.

Tingles scurried up Barry’s spine and he closed his eyes, wanting to imagine that they were the only two people in the universe. They were so near one another, touching to gently, as the Doctor ran his hands through Barry’s hair, soothing him with the action. It felt…like a welcome kind of foreign to have someone comforting him. He was used to it being the other way around.

But his slave training still stuck with him, especially because he knew that the Doctor liked it when he was respectful, showing that he was still respectful to the man even in his kindness. “T-Thank you,” Barry said in return, voice barely audible.

“Does it make you uncomfortable to be in here?” John didn’t want to test his boundaries too far. He pressed his face against Barry’s shoulder, in faux-comfort. He really wanted to get a better look at the rest of his body. Taut ass, hairless and smooth…it was exactly what the Doctor wanted.

Maybe he should consider exactly how they knew his preferences so well, and so specifically.

“N-No.”

“Do you think that you want to stay with me? You would still be my slave…but like I said, you could be yourself here. It’s been a couple weeks since we said you could decide later…”

Barry’s heart was racing. The insecure parts of him made him wonder if this was the Doctor asking him to leave, but he shoved the thought down. “I…I would love to be here with you, Doctor.”

“That means that you would be, realistically, my Companion. Those Companions I keep…no other ones live with me who I indulge in sex. They all live elsewhere. If you stayed…well, you would be _kept_.”

Barry’s cheeks were bright red. John wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the water or the blush spreading up his neck. “I…I would like that.”

John smiled gently and lifted a finger underneath the boy’s chin so that he would look up. “I’m glad,” he whispered, and slowly moved his mouth onto Barry’s.

The kiss was slow and relaxed, as if they were just testing the waters, wondering if there was really chemistry between them. As Barry turned his head, well trained in the art of indulging those he stayed with, John knew that he was glad he’d found Barry. The boy was timid, yet he knew what he was doing. He was small and frail—everything that appealed to the darker parts of John’s mind—but he could take care of himself if need be. He had each and every trait that John could’ve asked for.

When John pulled away, Barry’s eyes were starry. “T-Thank you for letting me stay.” He was struggling to keep his lower parts from growing, from filling with anticipation. His toes curled as he thought about where this might be headed, but John silently turned around and began turning off the water. Oh.

“If you would like to stay, well…I prefer to inspect each of my companions. From what I can see, you are perfect,” he leaned in closer, water now dripping to an end from the faucet, and put a hand on Barry’s hip.

“T-Thank you. You are also wonderful…so big…” Barry breathed before he could help himself. His immediate embarrassment at the comment just made John chuckle.

“Oh, yes?”

“I mean overall! You are…you have wide shoulders and the muscle…and…also, big in the ways that one might expect,” John was now very sure that the redness was from blushing.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I can further inspect you while I dry you, how does that sound?” It was almost phrased like an offer, making Barry feel a little less nervous. John stepped out of the shower, large feet landing on the floor with a quiet padding sound, and reached for a fluffy white towel.

Neck and face burning hot under the individual attention that he was receiving, Barry climbed out after him and walked into the man’s arms and the towel between them. John started with his back. It was strange. Barry was usually the one drying people off, taking care of them.

After his back was dry, patted down thoroughly by his Master, Barry shifted so that he was bending over, presenting his hole to the Doctor. The man observed with pride. His boy had taken very good care of himself; he was completely hairless. John patted his hole just dry enough.

“Good,” he praised. “You can stand.” It felt good to give permission, to acknowledge that Barry was now his to contain.

When Barry faced him once again, John couldn’t help but to stare at him a moment longer. This wonderful piece of beauty, this small, younger boy who was pure in every way, was all his to have. It was clear that Barry wanted it too.

John moved his hands to the either of Barry’s shoulders and smiled lovingly. “I’m glad that you’re staying. I enjoy having you here.” He took a step closer and Barry instinctually averted his eyes. These were typical signs of a Master finally taking interest in him, and Barry blushed hard at even the thought of it

Then John’s lips were on his again, tongue joining. He explored Barry’s warm mouth, considering everything as he went on. Barry was soft and gentle, unbroken even though he had been through so much. He fully trusted John, and the man knew it. He could feel it in every movement, the anticipation of touch, like tingles between their skin. Deepening the kiss and moving even nearer, John dropped the towel from his hands, fully pushing himself against Barry’s torso. The man was so much taller than him that his member was pressed above Barry’s belly button. It just made him grow harder. Barry was so small against him…

Strong arms wrapped their way around Barry’s middle and lifted him effortlessly, until his legs were wrapped around John and he was being carries into the bedroom, set onto the bed.

Their mouths collided with force, and all the eagerness from the past weeks exploded. Barry had waited so long; he had never wanted a person like this before, and he had never before allowed himself to act on what he wanted.

As John shoved him rather roughly onto the mattress, Barry grew impossibly hard and his whole chest was flushed. His skin, rubbed raw from the shower, didn’t sting against the sheets. They were too soft to possibly hurt him. But such an insignificant detail, the feeling of silk against his back, only reminded Barry how much he wanted this. The Doctor could take care of him. The Doctor could love him. God, he wanted the Doctor to love him.

“You’re so gorgeous,” the older man whispered, pressing kisses all into Barry’s body. The boy took a moment to glance down between them, checking to see if the man was as hard as he felt against Barry’s stomach. He was, flushed red in fervor and bouncing. There was another view, John’s flexing feet underneath him, helping to hold him up even on the softest mattress. They had to be very strong to do that….

“Thank you so much, Doctor,” Barry found himself saying, unable to stop. He had to thank this man, this man who saved him.

As they ravished one another, Barry couldn’t help but to wonder what had possibly possessed him to be nervous about this. The Doctor was soothing and gentle, completely calm as they loved one another.

John reached between the boy’s legs, having already felt that Barry was enjoying this, and pressed a finger against his hole, still slightly wet from the shower. Barry tensed up just slightly, but John kissed his way down the smaller boy’s neck. “It’s alright. I’ll be gentle.” He leaned forward, long arm stretching over his Companion’s head and into the bedside drawer to grab the bottle of lubrication.

Barry exhaled quietly. _Okay, okay…_ He wanted this. He was ready. He was ready.

When he felt the finger protruding inside of him, he sucked in a silent breath of hair. John cooed at him to relax, to loosen his body. It had been a long time since he had had anything inside of him, banned from penetrating himself because his body wasn’t his own property.

Finally, he moaned, high-pitched and sweet. He was used to it, a foreign digit exploring him as he tried not to grab onto the Doctor’s shirt. That would be too clingy.

John grinned wide. “Perfect, perfect…so tight, beautiful.” It didn’t take long before John was able to push himself inside of the boy, so much tighter than he had imagined. He groaned into Barry’s ear and the boy whimpered.

He began thrusting in, slow at first before picking up his pace and moving to settle Barry’s ankles on either of his shoulders. The boy was panting with glee, eyes screwed shut as pressure built deep down in his stomach.

“Oh,” Barry whimpered. “Oh, Doctor.”

John bit down on Barry’s neck just slightly, and the boy leaned his head back.

They stayed together as long as they could, both chasing their highs and yet never wanting it to end. When they had reached their release, white liquid coating their stomachs and chests, the Doctor fell to the side down on his elbow, breathing hard. “You’re good at that,” he noted. He didn’t love the thought of Barry being with anyone else, but he was sure glad that even though the boy was nervous, he was purposeful with each movement.

“I’m really glad that I’m staying,” Barry breathed and John huffed out a laugh.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: side pairings, exploration between the Doctor and Barry, Barry making friends, and does John love Barry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more of my writing you can find me on my [tumblr](http://starkmarks.tumblr.com/).

The second that John signed the papers to officially begin the mining company, he knew that it was the right decision. The way that his hand swooped and looped while he put his name down on the dotted line…there was nothing like it. It had been so long since he’d looked at a decision of his and known, truly, that this was what he was supposed to do. When he’d risked everything in the war, when he’d put his whole life on the line, he wondered the whole time if there wasn’t something better he could’ve been doing. Now, he had absolutely no doubts.

He stood in his official _Time Lord Ambassador_ office, only Barry and a few spare Ambassadors and companions were there with him, none representing Time Lords like him. Tony Stark, a Vulcan, was poised perfectly in the corner of the room, smiling widely as he watched Barry hand another pen to the Doctor. They were all here to support his decision, as they had been since the Great War.

These were the rest of the Doctor’s so-called “companions”, people who he kept around to indulge and concern himself with. Barry had not met all of them before; now a month into their stay together, he was eager to get to know these other hidden sides of his Master. Especially because he was not supposed to think of the Doctor as his Master. It must be because he was used to having these mutually beneficial relationships with other people of equal status that he felt strangely about the title.

“You’re doing a mighty thing.” Rip Hunter said, standing with his back straight. He was in the formal get-up of his people: a tan, thin coat which went straight down to his ankles. It made Barry a little uncomfortable. The man was too rectangular, too confrontational for his taste; voice a little too loud for someone with such a slight frame. “This Company will serve people well including yourself.” He laughed.

Barry tried not to cringe. He didn’t like that they were materialistic, the Doctor and Hunter. While Barry’s Master was intent on making up for his actions in the War, Rip enjoyed reminding him that it was okay to think of himself for once. Though Barry had come to love the Doctor, he doubted that the man needed to be reminded of the fact that he deserved goodness. Self-pity was something of a commonplace for the Doctor, along with self-righteousness. Not that it was misplaced, but that it was there. He didn’t need to be told that this mining company would benefit him. He knew it would.

John’s grin was wide and gleeful as he pulled back from the papers. Barry matched his expression. “The Company is started.” He said, and looked around. It seemed as if there should be something more happening, as if the whole world should shift with the weight of the event, but he glanced around and saw his companions around him, smiling and happy. This was enough. “Thank you all for being with me.” He tried not to look individually at Barry, knowing that there was a chance the others would get jealous if he gave attention to the newest member so clearly. But it was hard not to. Lately, he’d been infatuated with the boy.

Tony took a step forward, his classic suit giving him a silhouette of power, shoulders ending with a point. “You can rest assured that you will have my hand in business, partner,” he boomed. Tony was known for being a bit of a business connoisseur, having only taken the Ambassador job in an attempt to bring life back to wellness after the Great War. Having him on John’s side would be an immense help. All those late nights together were worth it. Not that they weren’t before.

Two blonde men were poised by the entryway, gazing up the scene with fondness. “Oliver,” the Doctor said in surprise. “Ralph. I thought that the two of you could not make it.” Oliver Queen was a Genii man that the Doctor had secured relations with years ago, while Ralph Dibny, a questionable sort of character, was a changeling who John had assumed had altogether lied about not being able to come here. He mostly knew Ralph through business before he had come to Deep Space Nine.

The skinnier man smiled. “Well, you know me. My plans change fast.” He flashed his white teeth in a smile. “But hey, when I heard that you were finally taking a step out there, I had to see for myself. Not gonna let ‘em keep you holed up here, are ya’?”

John tried not to be bothered. Ralph always said questionable things. “No, I am not.”

“And yet Wally West couldn’t be here either?” The Changeling clicked his tongue. “That’s interesting. Wasn’t he the one who pushed you to do this in the first place?”

At this, John had to bite his tongue. Ralph was pushing it today, like always. Wally was back at home, preparing for the Jaffa Rebellion to officially begin. It was a secret which every person in the room knew about except Barry. If anything with the rebellion went wrong and John was caught as a conspirator, the Goa’uld would punish the slave severely. He had to remain in the dark about the whole thing, even if John trusted him. At this time tomorrow, a government would be overthrown. It was out of all of their hands. All they could do was hope.

“Yes. Where is Steve? Could he come? I had invited him, but he may be off on his planet running operations.” The Athosian was heavily involved in his government, an unofficial member, if anything. He did their dirty work, and was a very strong player for John to have on his side. He should have been here.

“No. Busy as always. The others will be here for the afterparty tomorrow, though.” Ralph smiled. “Except for Wally, of course.”

John waved a hand dismissively, and picked up a glass of champagne. Barry had picked it out by hand, well aware of his Master’s sweet-tooth. “To the Company.”

They all cheered together. It was the celebration that he needed.

* * *

The relief which came with finally getting the Company started extended to John’s relationship with Barry. Any internal struggles about the morality of their situation were gone by then, and John allowed himself to… _expand_ his advances. He was confident that setting Barry beneath him—demonstrating that John held the power in the relationship—was something which would not make the Volian boy uncomfortable, but rather set him at ease. After years of living in the headspace of being controlled, having freedom was stressful. Having too many choices left the boy completely confused and in duress. After they’d discussed it, they concluded that John would be the one to make decisions for him, to choose what he would do and when. At any point in time where Barry felt that he could handle something himself, they would shift and it would be just that.

Their system worked perfectly. Barry’s maid duties were on the same schedule as always: dusting once a week, cooking three meals a day, keeping K9 entertained, and cleaning each room on a specific day of the week. Of course, all of the bathrooms were done on the same day. The TARDIS was surprisingly huge, and there was much to be done. Barry still could barely comprehend its vastness. He found that as he traveled about, discovering new places and new things to do in his spare time, it became a little easier to choose what he had to do. Especially when the Doctor’s other companions were around. Ralph and Tony bickered back and forth often, and Barry enjoyed listening to it. It gave him something to do as he cleaned around them in the living room, where they went over papers about the Launch Party of the company.

His main interest, though he wished it were something a little less embarrassing, was the Doctor’s body. He couldn’t help it! He was practically living with a sex God, a man carved from marble and set in the perfect lighting. With those broad shoulders, muscle lining his chest and his abdomen, there was not one single inch of him not worth looking at. And there were quite a few inches of him.

The fact that the man was older than Barry almost made him excited. Whenever the Doctor reminisced about his old life, relaying tales of destiny and crime and lesson, Barry was infatuated. It was nothing like hearing sad, old men drone on about things which no longer existed. It was as if John was not a piece of history himself, but a witness to it. A source of pure knowledge. For a slave who had been deprived of true learning, there was nothing more intriguing.

As he laid in bed the night after the Company papers were finally signed—in _the Doctor’s bed_ , he corrected himself—he looked over to the man beside him. John was running his hands through his beard, getting everything in order before he settled down to sleep for the night. Every day since he’d arrived John had invited him into the bed, Barry never going without explicit permission. It…it was sweet to be reminded daily that he was wanted. But it felt as if he was being reprimanded. It would be rude and disobedient to just assume that he should go to bed with his Master, but it was wrong to have to be told something over and over again. As if he couldn’t take an order.

John had spoken so often about having open conversation, about making sure that they were up-front with one another. Was this something he should ask about? Perhaps-

“You’re staring.” John deadpanned, and Barry snapped out of his daze.

“Huh?”

“You were staring off into space. But I was space,” John laughed. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He was always so curious as to what his boy was thinking. Ever since the Mining Company had begun—or at least the idea of it—and factories were being converted and built, business was going fine. It gave him…well, not more _time_ to focus on Barry, but more energy. It made him _happy_. And Barry was the one thing he wanted to busy himself with when he was in a good mood. He loved hearing what the boy was thinking. It was so rare that Barry spoke out.

Barry shifted and blushed. “I…I was thinking about how you said that I should be upfront about if I have any questions…”

John raised a brow. He had been very persistent about making sure that Barry had no hidden feelings between the two of them. But the way that his looked, where the boy was awkward and uncomfortable in the sheets, had he been holding something back? “Yes. It’s very important that we are upfront with one another. Do you have something you wonder about?”

“I don’t want it to seem as if I’m eager, but each day you have to tell me to come to bed with you. I have a whole room to myself, which I’d assume is for sleeping…” he tried not to let his voice trial off. The Doctor liked it when he was clear about what he was thinking. Yes, that was essential. Barry took a deep breath of air. “Sorry. I’m not the best about being…direct, I’m sure you can tell. Anyhow, I just didn’t want you to be unsatisfied with the fact that I’m not…doing it without being asked. I’m supposed to do everything without being asked, like a good…. _guest_ , but I feel that it would be rude for me to assume that I would be staying in your room.”

With this, John smiled gently. Ah, what a sweet and simple topic to be concerned about. His heart nearly melted at the sound of it, and the sight of that pink glow on Barry’s cheeks. He leaned forward, one hand out, and lifted Barry’s chin with a single finger. “There’s no need to apologize. I should have been clearer, you’re right. I’ve asked you to come to sleep with me because I enjoy coming home to the bed warm.” He’d been having Barry come into the bed a half-hour early so that when John came up from dinner, he could slide onto a heated mattress. “If I don’t ask you, then you should go to your own bed, yes. These days, I just prefer it like this.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Thank you.”

John glanced at him curiously. “You were shy when asking. Is there anything else that you’ve been too shy to ask about? I know it can be hard to change habits after so long of being told not to speak up.”

Barry shrugged a little. What else had he been thinking about? Well…he didn’t like K9 or Rip Hunter. Steve Rogers had stepped on his toe and not noticed, but that had been an accident. Was there something else? After a month, there must be. “I’m not sure. There’s nothing that bothers me, really. I don’t have any concerns big enough for me to remember right now.”

“No?” John scooted closer to him. “How about sex? You haven’t spoken much about it.”

Barry cursed the blush that spread up his face. All it did was give away how much he liked the Doctor. He couldn’t act casual about anything! “Uh,” he croaked, “I do have thoughts about that, yes. I was being honest when I said that I enjoyed it. But slaves are not supposed to inquire about anything, or initiate something new. It’s bad manners.”

This immediately piqued John’s interest. He grinned slyly. “I don’t consider it bad manners. I find it _interesting_. Tell me, what have you wished you could initiate?”

“Oh, gosh…it’s more than me not being used to initiating things, sir,” the name slipped out before he could help it, “it’s more…well, I’m not _good at it_. I don’t enjoy doing things I’m not good at.”

“Does talking count as initiating? Because you could always _suggest_ something. Then, I might choose to initiate it.” With a fox-like smile, the Doctor picked the boy up and set him in his lap, a gentle reminder of his immense strength.

At this, the slave couldn’t help but to look away. It was _fun_ , being talked to like this. Like it was their dirty secret. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips as he slowly lifted his gaze to his partner’s eyes. “I…” Oh, could he really say it? “I have a certain interest in your…body.”

“My body?”

“Yes.”

John laughed a little, not in a mocking way, but in a way which would fill the silence. “My body as a whole, or a specific part of my body?” Was there something strange that Barry was intrigued with?

This was a risk, Barry knew. There was a chance of him getting shot down. But, the Goa’uld had done their research on the Doctor. Barry knew what he liked, and Barry knew that he himself liked it too. “Your feet, sir.” He gushed. “I know that it’s an obscure taste, but I can’t help but to pay attention to them. I’m not sure why.” It was an attraction which he was intimidated by, but eager to explore. “I know that you are busy with your company, and you of course do not have to indulge me in anything, but if it is your wish that I am open and honest with you, then I should-“

John held a hand up. “Don’t worry, don’t worry.” He soothed. “I’d be more than happy to… _indulge_ you.” It had been so long since he had politely tip-toed around the subject of sex. With his other companions, they were straightforward and clear. They knew what they wanted and had established their boundaries. Barry was too timid for that. “It seems that you haven’t quite figured out what you like yet, am I correct?”

He nodded. “I just know that…I like them.”

It was hard not to smile. “That’s alright. Would you want to see them?”

Barry blushed and looked away. “No, no, not now.” He rushed out, too embarrassed to acknowledge what he had just admitted. “We were about to go to sleep. You don’t need to-“

John pressed his hand against the boy’s collarbone, attempting to get his attention. “No, no. I was going to find an excuse to go to the shower,” he chuckled slightly, “because I thought that you were tired. If you’re up for it, you could come with me.”

The expression which John received in return for his invitation was unlike anything he had ever seen before. There was acceptance and fear and wonder in Barry’s eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had never been supported before in his life. No one had ever comforted him or reassured him that he was fine. He was always on his own.

With a tiny nod, they moved to the bathroom. John wasn’t sure if he should turn the water in the shower on, possibly continue on like nothing was happening. Barry found that reassuring most of the time. It always made him feel as if they were doing only acceptable things, as if there was nothing to second-guess himself for. But that didn’t seem right for this. Instead, he walked over to the edge of the bathtub, an enormous addition to the bathroom that Rose had asked for when she was alive, and began to run the warm water.

“Are you nervous?” John asked, just as he always did before he and Barry were intimate. He still hadn’t gauged the level of Barry’s experience with sex, too afraid that the answers would be overly-personal or unsavory.

Barry took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.” He reverted back to what he was familiar with, something which wasn’t so out of his comfort zone. _Okay_ , he thought. _We’re running a bath, running a bath…_ what did he normally do when he was running a bath, catching glimpses of the Doctor’s body in secret rather than out in the open?

“Would you like bath salts?” That was usually the first thing that he offered when setting the bath up. He moved underneath the cabinet to see where the lotions and oils were. He usually gave the Doctor a massage afterwards.

“Yes, please.” The older man began to slowly undress himself, hanging his robe up on a hook. This week they hadn’t had sex, the first week they’d gone without it since the time after their shower. He had been planning on jerking off under the rain of water alone, but this was much preferable. Especially if he had a view of Barry exploring his interests right in front of him.

It only occurred to him for a second that this could be a set-up of the Goa’uld, that they sent someone with these interests on purpose. How could they have figured that out?

When he stepped into the water, seated at the far end of the bathtub, he faced the way where the tub was narrower, already planning out his next move. Barry added the salts and was then ushered into the shining water, glistening with blue crystals dissolving before their eyes. Barry set his back against John’s chest, and the man moved so that his feet were propped up on the ledge in front of them, poking out of the water.

Barry looked away.

“You don’t have to be shy.”

“I am.”

John grinned. “Then I suppose it’s okay to be shy.” Barry stole a glance ahead of him, to where John’s feet were set against the cool, white tile.

They weren’t quite tan, but not quite pale, a realistic skin-tone for someone living in a high-quality space environment. His nails were cut evenly, not long enough to be grotesque and not short enough to be stubby. His feet were average in every way, a perfect medium ground for Barry’s mind to begin his curiosity on. That is, if it weren’t for their size. They were many shoe-sizes larger than Barry’s, and that was enough to stop him from looking away again.

Barry barely noticed when the Doctor’s hands trailed over to his stomach, daring to lead downwards and press against his member. It was growing hard in the warm bathwater. The boy shifted slightly, blinking slowly.

“I like them.” He repeated, saying it aloud without sounding bothered, for the very first time. “Every part of you is handsome. It makes sense that they should be the same.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way.” His hands wrapped around Barry’s length and squeezed questioningly. The Volian boy nearly whined, but he was a little too out of his element.

“…Doctor…”

“You can tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not. I…I like it.” He breathed out. In this moment, his hesitations were finally lost. It seemed perfectly acceptable that they were here, John reaching forward to get a better grip on him. The older man’s cock was growing harder behind him, he could feel. Did he enjoy this too? “Do _you_ like it?”

“I’ll always enjoy seeing you aroused.” He whispered. “Do you want to touch?’

Barry’s eyelids slowly lifted. _Did_ he want to touch them? It…the question made his stomach churn. Was that not answer enough? “Yes.” His voice was barely audible. Saying yes was…it was initiating. It was a challenge to get the word out. Talking _did_ count as making the first move, he decided.

“Then…” John could tell that it was hard for the boy to admit, or to take the first move. “How about you give me a foot massage?” He had been meaning to ask for one, but he’d been worried that it would test their boundaries too much.

Finally, the boy blinked his eyes all the way and leaned forward. It was much easier for him to follow orders than to make a move on his own. The water swooshed around his waist as he advanced and shifted to the side, taking one foot into his hand. The position was slightly off, with Barry now perpendicular to his partner, but as John bent his leg, they made it work. The whole time, John never took his hand off the younger boy’s member, silently teasing him.

Barry worked it like a normal massage, going around the outside to work at the large muscles, getting the initial relaxation. How was it possible that even the Doctor’s feet were strong? The hand at his cock slipped forward to play with his tip, thumb pressing at his hole. “Oh,” he breathed. He began to squeeze the man’s foot harder, stronger, maybe a little earlier than he was supposed to in _just_ a massage, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His stomach was winding up, heat sinking lower in his gut and he moved his hips forward just slightly.

As his fingers explored the foot in front of him, he couldn’t help but to get curious. Toes weren’t supposed to be bothered with, really. Not in massages. Stretched, if it was medical foot pain, but not…bothered. He thought nothing of it as he reached out and touched one, feeling it with his hand. His mind was blissfully empty as he risked a touch with his mouth, just the outside of it. He could feel John’s knee jerk, and immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry-“ he attempted to apologize.

“No, no,” John’s breathing was quick. “Keep going.” There were clear signs of enjoyment written all over his face.

Barry was inexplicably encouraged by this, and immediately ducked his head to continue. He wasn’t sure what to do, where to lick or suck, and just went about it one-by-one, orderly like everything else that he did. The Doctor’s hand worked harder in Barry’s lap, his grip tight and hand comforting. The hair on the back of their necks stood up as John reached out to jerk himself to completion. When they both came within minutes of each other, the bathwater swirled white, mixing with the crystals which had previously dissolved into glitter. Barry didn’t take his mouth off of the foot until he was panting for air, trying to recover, and he landed once again with his back against John’s chest.

“Doctor,” he heaved, “thank you. Thank you so, so much,” He wanted to keep going, wanted to stay like that forever, but they were done now. It was only polite to stop indulging himself.

Sweat was running down John’s temple, chasing its way to join the rest of the water in the tub. The bath had run lukewarm long ago, but their skin was red with excitement and heat, their mouths in desperate need of a cool drink. But that could all wait. “Tell me what you want, Barry,” John deadpanned, attempting to get his breathing under control. His heart was pressing against his chest with every beat. “You can keep going.”

It was that same look once again, that hopeful, loving look in his eyes…. “really?”

Despite himself, the man let a grin split his face. “Yes.”

* * *

Having good investors in his company—his companions—meant that he was celebrating with the kind of people who had the money to invest in a company. It meant that the party was going to be grand and it was going to be big. With Deep Space Nine’s capacity almost having been hit, a considerable number of the people came to the grand opening of the first factory, stationed just outside of Deep Space Nine.

It was set to mine Vibranium, the one other location for the metal besides the home planet. T’Challa was the one and only competitor in the business, and the next day, the only one who had not showed up to the party. It had John on edge, and while Barry was well aware of the feeling, he had no idea what to do about it.

“I know that you decided to keep me in the dark about your Company, and I wish to respect that, but you seem on edge.” The boy said as he was fitting John for the outfit. Because the party was so big, and mining such a luxury, he must have an outfit befitting of it. That meant that Barry was also working with a stylist, who was fastening every button and thread across the man’s chest. “Is there anything that I could do, at least?”

John let out a sigh. He wanted to say that after today he could tell Barry everything, but the stylist would overhear and he would find out later that tonight was the Jaffa rebellion. John couldn’t risk having any connection to it until after it was confirmed as a success. So, with resignation, he just grunted, “No. You’ve done well preparing for the party. I should’ve guessed that the Goa’uld would have had you trained in that.” They had him trained in many things. “Would you feel like singing at tonight’s party?”

Barry’s eyes widened. “There are a thousand people coming tonight. The whole factory floor will be filled with possible investors.”

“I’ve heard you sing, and it’s beautiful. I would love for you to do so tonight.” He said sweetly. “Surely, that would buy even the most hostile objectors over.” And God, did he need that. “That’s something I could really use…”

The boy lifted his brow. “There will be objectors? But it’s your party.”

“My companion-“ he stopped himself. “Well, not companion like my real companions, like you and K9, but like Tony, the ones I don’t see often. One of them, T’Challa, owns the corporation which mines Vibranium. He was the first to begin moving it outside of his Country. Now I am doing so, too. I’m…I’m a threat to him.” John sighed at the thought. “We are close. I like him, and it pains me to see business come between us. That’s why holding the party in the Vibranium factory is sigh a bold move, as I’m sure you heard Rip talk about. It will get the most attention, the most money, but it will damage relationships with T’Challa.”

Barry wasn’t sure how to respond. “Have I met him?”

“No. His planet is far away. I rarely see him outside of conferences and such. I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of him at all anymore.” His gaze leveled down to the floor.

Though it was a sad thought, Barry smiled anyway. “I don’t think that Ralph will be sad to hear that.” He could just hear the Changeling’s laughter now.

John chuckled. “You’re right. They never got along.”

“I believe I heard him say earlier that T’Challa had a stick up his ass.”

“The party hasn’t even started yet and he’s already drunk. No surprise there.” John lifted his arm so that the cloth could be properly secured underneath it. When he glanced up, Barry had a starry look in his eye. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re handsome, is all.” Barry blushed, and then resigned, “I’ll sing for you tonight. I’ll dazzle the daylights out of them.” He grinned cheekily. “Is that the saying?”

“I’ve never heard that before in my life.”

“I think Tony said it.”

“God, I need to get you away from them,” John laughed and pulled him closer. He liked this, Barry being socialized. Maybe it was with strange people, Tony who was sarcastic and out-there, Ralph who was crude and honest…but they were almost becoming friends. It gave him a certain _glow_. Or maybe that was what they had done yesterday in the bath. “Get out there and go talk to the others, yeah? I’m going to read my speech once again. You have fun.”

Barry bowed his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“Yes, go on. I like it when you talk to them, and they like you too. Go make friends.” This party would be Barry’s only chance to meet new people here in Deep Space Nine. It was important that he had other people. The boy was so much cuter when he was smiling wide and his eyes were crinkled at the edges. He was…he was so _perfect_. John almost had a physical reaction to it, like his heart beating faster.

He hadn’t felt that way since he had first married Rose. Back then, he was in love with her. Did that mean…no, no. That was unrealistic. He couldn’t be in love with him. Was…was John in love with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more of my writing you can find me on my [tumblr](http://starkmarks.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://starkmarks.tumblr.com/).


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